


Be My Shelter

by Comade



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - the twins don't have powers, Angst, Homeless Pietro, Homeless Wanda, Hostage Situation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Stark's bomb never hit the twins' house, The twins need a hug, Undercover Clint Barton, but their father is a dick, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-10 15:25:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11694510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comade/pseuds/Comade
Summary: During a cold winter, Pietro breaks into Clint's apartment while trying to find a place to sleep. He ends up being caught, and wake up tied to a chair. He would never have thought that the agent undercover waiting for the end of his mission to hand him over to the police would be the someone that finally save him and his sister.





	1. Chapter 1

The sun was slowly rising, no sound could be heard in the street. Only one man could be seen walking quickly down the street, rubbing his hands covered by his sleeves in an attempt of warming them. His thin sweater wasn't really useful during this cold weather. Winter had began a few weeks ago, and the air became even colder than before. According to the chatty people walking down the street Pietro could hear all day, it was the colder winter they ever had in this city. The temperatures had never dropped so low. Luckily for him, it hadn't snowed yet. The cold nights of winter were already the hardest thing him and his sister had to face living in the street, but it became unbearable when snow had settled down on the pavement. He knew that, as soon as snow started to fall from the sky, it would be too late. He had to find a shelter now.

Rubbing his arms, Pietro let out a shaky breath, seeing his respiration misting in the cold air. He looked around him, desesperate to find a place they could squat in for at least one night. He couldn't feel his legs anymore, nor his hands, and he felt his heart wrench at the thought of his sister, huddled up on the ground of some dark hidden alley, under a thin and torn blanket they kept from their home before running away. 

His vision became blurry, as tears threatened to spill from his eyes. He pressed his lips in a thin line, trying to stop a sob from escaping them, when he blinked and the tears suddenly started running down his cheeks, dropping onto his sweater. He quickly wiped them away with his sleeve, and clenched his fist, trying to regain his composure. He couldn't break down, not now. He shook his head, ignoring the overwhelming frustration that had been haunting him since winter started, and kept looking around, focused on his task. He hated how he wasn't able to protect his sister, he hated how their family wasn't there for them anymore, he hated how they had been let down by everyone. Anger had been building inside of him for months now, and he felt like he could explode at any moment.

His eyes were burning, his heart beating way too fast, and his legs were about to give out at any moments. Pietro clenched his jaw as he kept walking, heading down the street at a quick pace. The image of his dying sister wasn't leaving his mind, and Pietro became more and more agitated as the minutes passed. He needed to find a place, he couldn't let her down. Taking a turn down a narrowed street unknown by most of the citizen because of its location near the forest, Pietro stopped for a second, scanning the area. He didn't want to adventure in the deserted side of this poor city if there wasn't anything waiting for him there. His glance suddenly fell onto a derelict hotel, with dirty walls and shattered windows. It almost looked like an abandoned building. Pietro's eyes brighten at the view, as he started walking again, quickly heading towards the property. They had already squatted down in a hotel, but this one had been replaced by a real building, because tourists didn't come into this city anymore. It had actually happened almost one year ago, right after they had been kicked out. They had been into this old hotel for months, until it was destroyed near summer. They had now lived in the street for months, unaware that there was another hotel in the city.

He wondered for a second if he should go get his sister now, but decided to check if the building was safe, and if there was at least one apartment vacant beforehand. The hotel didn't look really crowded, but he still wanted to check first. He didn't want to give his sister hope by bringing her here, if the rooms were all occupied or uninhabitable. As he reached the property, Pietro walked passed the entrance, looking at the windows of the first floor. He carefully climbed the fire escape, trying to be as quiet as possible, and reached the first window on the far right of the hotel. He saw a woman sitting at a table, and kept walking, discreetly looking through the next window. He saw clothes on the couch and food on the table. He found himself staring a little too long at the food, and went to the other window. This time, there was nothing. No clothes, no food, no shoes at the entrance, and no person sitting at the table or laying on the bed. Pietro concluded without a doubt that the apartment was unoccupied. It was too early for the person just to be outside, and there was no trace of someone living here. 

Clenching his fist, Pietro winced in apprehension, and punched the glass, only shattering it. He knew this wouldn't alert the owners. The sound of glass being broken and things being burned were pretty common here, mostly in this part of the city. Plus, they didn't seem to care about this place, they wouldn't bother to check if the sound was coming from the street or from their hotel. Stopping himself from moaning when he saw that the window was just shattered, he drew back his fist and punched the glass with more strenght. A part of the window broke, some pieces of glass falling on the carpet of the room, and some digging painfully into Pietro's bloody knuckles. The blood was dripping down from his fingers, falling onto his torn jeans, and he took a second to take the shards out of his skin, before putting his arms through the window to open it from inside. He then carefully broke into the apartment, flinging a leg over the windowsill. He quietly put his two feet on the floor, feeling the shards of glass on the ground digging into his shoes, and looked around him. The room was dark and didn't have a lot of space, there was kitchen on the far left, and a bed on the other side of the room. It sure wasn't luxurious, but it was enough for them. Smiling, he turned around, about to go back outside to get his sister, when his glance suddenly fell onto a man leaning on the wall right next to the window. There was no expression on his face, he didn't even look angry that someone had just broke into his apartment. He was just... bored, and kind of unimpressed, as if it was just a normal morning for him.

“You chose the wrong apartment, kid.”

And everything went black.

\----

When he said he wanted a quiet mission to recover from the events in New York, Clint sure wasn't expecting that. Being sent in Sokovia was pretty normal, he was used to travels; having to watch the shallow activities of a man living in a castle was quite unusual but still alright, after all he wasn't the worst Clint had had to face yet; but watching a young man climbing into his crappy apartment had been a surprise. 

Now, Clint was still at his window, watching from afar Struckers' henchmen exit the building where their transactions always took place, while briefly glancing at the unconscious young man tied to a chair behind him from times to times. The men outside got into their car, looking around them in a suspicious way, before getting off, following the road that led to a forest near this place. Checking one last time the street outside, Clint walked away from the window, going to sit at his table, across from the man he had knocked out twenty minutes earlier. He had tied his hands behind the chair, and his legs together. His head was hanging low, and Clint couldn't see his face. All he could see was his messy silver hair, and it was probably the weirdest thing he had seen this day.

“What am I gonna do...” he sighed, running a hand over his tired face

Clint was probably supposed to call the police, but right now, he couldn't. He was in mission, he couldn't bring attention on him. The easiest solution would probably be to release him then, but Clint couldn't ignore the fact that this man had broke into his apartment, and that he had found a knife in his pocket. He was a threat, and Clint couldn't let him go.

But one thing still bothered Clint. Why would this man break into an empty apartment? He must have seen that there was nothing to steal inside before breaking his window, so why did he tried to get in anyway? The more Clint looked at him, the more he started to have doubts about the young man's motivations. His clothes were thin, probably not protecting him from the coldness outside, and seemed really old and dirty. He looked a little too thin, weak, like he hadn't properly ate for weeks. Clint started to wonder if the kid wasn't just looking for a place to sleep. He would have to ask him to explain himself when the young man would wake up, but Clint had no idea if he spoke english or not. Some people in Sokovia did, they learned it in school, but it was a minority. Most of the people here had to drop school early to work, and the others just didn't remember a word. Unfortunately, Clint was clueless when it came to sokovian, so, if the kid didn't speak english, they were both screwed.

Letting out a long sigh, Clint got up to go check the installations which permitted him to hear everything that was going in the building across the street. Strucker's henchmen had multiples meetings in this one with others men from Hydra, and Clint had to keep a close eye on them, gathering informations about Loki's scepter, which was apparently in their possession. The archer only had time to stand up when he suddenly saw the silver-haired man stir in his sleep, before slowly opening his eyes, his glance immediately falling onto the ropes tying his legs. His eyebrows' furrowed, and he snapped his head, his eyes meeting Clint's. The panic filling his eyes immediately turned into anger as he understood the situation, and his icy blue eyes almost seemed to darken. Clint stared at him for way longer than he should have, frozen. He knew from his clothes that the young man was living in bad conditions, but suddenly seeing him like that had taken him aback. His face was pale, his lips almost blue, and dark circles carved deeply into his eyes. The fear filling his eyes sure didn't help, and for a second, all that Clint wanted to do was untie him and help him. But the glare the silver-haired man was now offering him helped him to regain his composure, as the archer slowly sat down again, staring sternly at the young man.

“Do you speak english?” he first asked him carefully, speaking slowly and articulating every word

The young man lifted his eyebrows, looking at Clint as if he was the stupidest person he had ever met. He spoke english then, it was a great improvement if the agent ignored the look the young man had just given him. Now it was time to look for explaination. His answer would determine if Clint would let him go, or keep him here until his mission was over to hand him over to the police.

“Why did you break into my apartment?” he asked again, feeling like he was doing an interrogation

The young man kept glaring at him, his knee jittering under the table. His eyes were filled with so much hatred that, if he wasn't tied up, Clint was sure that he would have tried to kill him with his bare hands. But even though he was trying to look intimidating, he couldn't fool the archer. The anger filling his eyes couldn't hide the exhaustion that they showed. He looked weak, tired, and Clint couldn't help but feel once again the need to untie him, his fingers twitching at his sides.

“Did you need a place to sleep? Do you live in the street?” he added, this time with a tone more gentle

He didn't know why he felt the need to help him, he didn't even know this man, and he looked like he wanted to kill him. He just looked so young, probably in his twenties, and Clint could see that behind all this anger were hidden fear and distress.

But once again, the silver-haired man kept his mouth shut. He couldn't tell him his situation, he didn't even know him, he couldn't trust him. This man was going to hand him over to the police, which was already looking for him after a failed burglary where the owner of the apartment had showed up in the middle, catching a sight of him and Wanda before they escaped the property. If he was arrested after telling him that he was living in the street, the police would find Wanda. They weren't looking for them anymore, but would certainly try to find her if they had a lead. The twins had already stole from a few houses, never finding enough money to get out of their situation. He would probably be in jail for almost ten years, he wouldn't let this happen to Wanda.

Sighing, Clint rested his elbows on the table, leaning a little toward him. “Listen, kid. You'll have to help me there, I can't figure this out on my own.”

The young man seemed to hesitate for a second, before pressing his lips into a thin line, lowering his head. He couldn't tell him. Clint shook his head, and was about to get up, thinking that he would deal with this later, when he suddenly spoke up in a thick accent.

“I came here because I needed money, I wanted to steal some stuff.” he shrugged, talking in a hoarse voice

Clint blinked at him for a second, taken aback by his heavy accent which was aggravated by his raspy voice, probably due to thirst. He frowned after hearing his poor explaination, and slid a knife across the table. He didn't know if the kid was lying to him, but he needed to understand that the situation was serious. Clint needed to know the truth if he wanted to decide of what to do with him.

“And you were ready to use this?” he enquired, giving him a reproachful look

The young man looked down at the weapon, then back at Clint, still with the same stern look. The archer sighed for what seemed like the tenth time of the day, and rubbed his neck, conflicted. He definitely couldn't let him go. The kid didn't even have a hint of remorse in his eyes. He didn't care about what could happen to him, and would most certainly do it again.

“I can't let you go, kid.” the brunet concluded, getting up. “Not if you go around breaking into apartments with weapons.”

The sokovian watched him leave, glaring daggers at him, as he unconsciously clenched his jaw. Feeling the young man's stare burning his back, Clint walked out of the apartment, somehow even more upset than before this conversation. This was going to be a long week...

\----

Clint came back only ten minutes after, coming back from the apartment only two doors away from him. He had had to go see Natasha before she went to her mission. She had to reconnoitre the castle a few days before the intervention of the avengers, to look for any entrance, or flaw in their security system. In simple words, she had a way more interesting mission, while Clint had to sit there all day, watching and hearing any activity going on in the building across the road. The worse was that, most of the time, the informations he caught weren't about the scepter. Until now, he had only got a few things about the artefact. He had never felt so useless.

When he got back into the room, his captive was looking down, his face hidden by a few straws falling in front of his eyes. Thinking that he was just sleeping, Clint went to sit by the window, noticing some henchmen entering the building. The archer had to keep himself from groaning when he thought about the hours he would have to wait, looking out the window and listening to his transmitter. 

After two longs hours, during which the archer caught some informations about the experiences led by Baron Strucker, the henchmen finally exited the property, going back to their vehicules. Clint ran a hand down his face, and got up, heading toward his fridge to grab a bottle of water. He turned around, when his eyes suddenly fell onto the young sokovian sitting at the table. He had almost forgot him. The silver-haired man was looking at the wall, and Clint's eyes widened at the sight of his face. He somehow looked even worse than when he first saw him. His eyes were half-lidded from exhaustion, his face incredibly pale, he looked like he was about to faint. Clint mentally cursed himself, thinking that he should have kept an eye on him, and quickly went to his fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and some bread. He then went back to the young man, and put the supplies onto the table, untying one of his hand so he would be able to move. 

He stepped back, unsure of what to do, when he met the sokovian's eyes. He was, once again, glaring at him. Clint sighed, and told him to, at least, drink. He didn't want the kid to die from dehydration just because he was stubborn and didn't want to take anything from him. The young man looked down at the bottle, hesitating, then back at Clint, and finally moved his right arm. The archer seemed to relax, when the silver-haired flipped him off. Clint's eyebrows shot up, but his face remained expressionless, almost bored. The archer got up, without another word, and tied his right hand back to the chair, before going back to his spot to work on a file, slightly shaking his head. 

_He didn't see that one coming..._ Pietro thought, smirking. He didn't want to accept anything from this man. He had already spent longer without foor or water, he knew his limits, after how long he would probably lose consciousness, for the moment he was alright. He would soon find a way to escape and go back to Wanda, anyway. He didn't plan to stay here, nor to go to jail. Pietro moved his wrists a little, and immediately felt the ropes burning his skin. He winced in apprehension. The next hours were going to be painful.


	2. Chapter 2

Pietro didn't know how long he had been trying to untie himself, but it was probably around midday when he started to feel some blood dripping down his hands, falling directly onto the wooden floor. He could now feel the rope starts to loosen a little, but it was still too tight, and the young man started to wonder if he would really manage to escape. Clint had been gone for now ten minutes, after having tried to talk to him a few times in vain. Pietro suddenly heard the door being opened behind him, and immediately stopped moving, but it was too late. Clint had already noticed the blood on the floor.

“Stop doing that, you're only hurting yourself.” he heard the agent scowl

Pietro sent him a glare over his shoulder, and went back to trying to untie himself, feeling the rope rubbing against his skin getting wet because of the blood. He winced, clenching his teeth hard enough to hurt, when he suddenly felt a hand on his wrists. The silver-haired man stopped moving, confused. He felt his wrists being slowly untied, as the man told him not to try anything, and that he was too weak to fight him anyway. Pietro simply nodded, already knowing that, if he wanted to escape, fighting him was not a solution.

“Dammit, kid...” the man mumbled, as he made him put his wrists in front of him to examine them

He grabbed the rope and tied him again, but this time further on his arms so it wouldn't touch his wrists, and went to take something in his bag. He came back with bandages, and sat in front of him, starting to wrap the tissue around Pietro's wrists. The young man tried to pull his wrists back, not wanting him to help him in any way, and the agent glared at him. “I'm definitely not letting you put blood all over the floor, so stand still and let me help you, you idiot.” he grunted, looking back at the injuries. Pietro huffed, and looked away, but his glance went back to his arms when he felt the brunet starting to bandage him again. His movements were slow, careful, as if he was scared he would hurt him. He held one hand under his wrists, as to hold him still, but was barely touching him, his touch slightly brushing against his skin and sending a tingling feeling through his entire body. If he wasn't so absorbed by what was happening, Pietro would have been disgusted by himself, mortified. This wasn't right.

Pietro looked up from their hands, looking at the man's face. His eyes were focused on the task, but he seemed too focused, as if he didn't want to met his glance. Pietro's eyes ran over his features, scrutinizing him. He wanted to trust him. He wanted to finally be able to trust someone, to stop tring to figure it all out by himself. He couldn't get himself out of this situation, he knew he needed someone, and, at this moment, the agent seemed to be the “someone” he needed. Pietro wanted to tell him that he lived in the street, he wanted to go back to Wanda, and, weirdly, he felt like this man would try to help him. But, before, he had to see if it was true. He had to see if the agent was really ready to help him.

“... Are you... Are you gonna call the police?” he asked hesitantly, stumbling over his words

The man looked up, meeting his blue icy eyes, and sighed. “I don't know. Right now I can't, it would bring attention on me, and my mission is more important.” he said, looking down at his wrists again.

“Then why don't you let me go?” Pietro enquired, leaning unconsciously toward the man

“You tried to break into my apartment, kid. You're still a thief.”

These five words were enough to convince Pietro. He couldn't trust him. He couldn't trust anyone but his sister. The man was right, Pietro was a thief, he deserved to go to jail, and he would probably soon go there if he didn't manage to escape. The fact that he was homeless didn't make him innocent. He had stole from houses, he was going to be hand over to the police. Telling him that he was homeless would only lead them to Wanda. He wouldn't care about the fact that he was desesperate, the agent wasn't going to pity him. No one could escape their sentence, and Pietro wasn't an exception. He had stolen, and he would pay for it, but certainly not today. For now, he had to take care of his sister. She was waiting for him outside. He couldn't believe he had considered even for a second trusting this man. 

“I'm Clint, by the way.” the brunet suddenly said, standing up to put the bandage away. “What's your name?” he asked, looking back at the young man.

Pietro looked away, avoiding his glance. He stayed silent, staring at the wall on his right, until he heard a sigh followed by steps. He glanced at Clint, seeing that he was back to his spot by the window, and started to try to untie himself again. The rope was more loosen than before, and easier to move since they were on his forearms. He could already feel the fabric burning his skin, but didn't flinch. He needed to go back to Wanda.

\----

Pietro didn't know for how long he had been doing this, but Clint had had the time to make a call, spy on another meeting, and go put installations in another property where the man he was watching may make a special transaction, so he supposed he had been doing this for quite a long time. His arms were hurting, but he knew he would soon be free. The rope wasn't even tying his arms anymore, loosely hanging on his wrists. He had kept them so Clint wouldn't see he had managed to take them off, and now had to untie his legs, which was actually more complicated than he thought it would be. The agent had now been back for ten minutes, having entered the apartment at the exact moment Pietro had managed to untie his arms, scaring him senseless. Luckily, he had time to put them back on his wrists before the man glanced at him. He now had to untie his legs without him noticing, and that was way harder than he thought it would be. By now, Pietro was convinced that the man had eyes behind his back. Everytime Pietro made a move towards his legs, the brunet glanced at him over his shoulder, almost catching him. 

Since the moment Clint got back into the room, Pietro didn't have any opportunity to untie himself. He was glaring at the agent, absent-mindely digging his nails into the rope hanging loosely on his wrists, when the agent suddenly got up from his spot, calling someone named Natasha. He walked around in the room before stopping near the couch, facing the wall. It probably would have been enough time for Pietro to escape, if he didn't feel like he was about to faint at any moment. He started to undo the rope as soon as the brunet wasn't paying attention to him anymore, but he couldn't focus on the task. His mind was dizzy, he couldn't keep his eyes open, and his head was pounding so hard he didn't even manage to understand where the knot started and where it ended. Everything just felt too confusing, and after only a minute, he heard the agent move, and had to give up, straightening himself on his chair and adjusting the rope around his wrists again. 

Unfortunately, he apparently moved too fast. His neck went limp and his head lolled forward. His vision became blurry as he felt himself glinding towards the edge of unconsciousness. He heard a sudden movement across the room, sounding like steps coming closer to him. He thought he heard someone asking him if he was alright, before he felt a hand on his shoulder. He couldn't see anything through his half-lidded eyes, blinking in confusion. There was suddenly two fingers against his neck, the coldness of the hand contrasting with the heat radiating from his own skin.

“Why didn't you just drink the damn water?” he heard someone grumble near him

He tried to lift his head but felt dizzy, his head immediately starting to loll on the side again. He heard the person walking away, before coming back after a few seconds. He tried to focus on the silhouette in front of him and recognized Clint, a bottle of water in hand, with a concerned look on his face, looking much older than when he first saw him. Worry didn't look good on him. 

Pietro suddenly felt a hand under his chin, carefully tilting his head up. His eyebrows furrowed, as he wondered what was happening, when he suddenly felt wetness against his lips. Pietro started drinking eagerly as soon as he realized that Clint was putting a bottle of water against his lips, which he would have understood sooner if he wasn't so disoriented, and kept drinking until the bottle was completely empty, not even stopping to catch his breath. Clint took the bottle away, and Pietro looked up, blinking. He felt slightly better, even though his head was still pounding and he still felt a little dizzy. Now, he could at least lift his head up without feeling like he was falling.

“Will you stop dying?” Clint groaned, rolling his eyes

This got Pietro to snicker, and the archer glanced at him, a small smile growing on his face as the sight. He went back to his spot, throwing the bottle right into the trash across the room, and focused back on his mission. Pietro slowly shook his head, still feeling weak, and saw that Clint wasn't facing him. He slowly took off the rope hanging on his wrists, still holding it in one hand, and started to untie once again his legs, when he felt his eyelids begin to droop. His movements were slower than usual, he was sluggish. He was about to fall asleep at any moment, and he'd better not do it while having his wrists untied. Grudgingly, Pietro got his wrists back behind his back, wrapping the rope once again around them. He knew that if he fell asleep without the rope around his wrists, he would wake up back at the starting point.

At least, Pietro knew he would wake up in only an hour or two, and he still had time before sundown. He had never slept more than one hour since they had been kicked out. If he didn't have trouble sleeping, he would never have allowed himself to fall asleep, scared that he would wake up in the middle of the night, when it would have been to late to go back to Wanda, who was too weak and would probably not be able to go through another night. But Pietro didn't have time to think about all of this anyway. He only had to close his eyes for a second, before drifting into sleep. Dehydratation was apparently a tiring thing to go through.

\----

_He was laying on his bed, comfortably tucked under his covers. His eyes were closed, and he was snoring lightly, slowly drifting into a dreamless sleep. Everyone in the house was still awake, he had, for once, been the first going to sleep, being exhausted after having looked for a job all day. Sadly, he hadn't found yet, but he knew he would manage to be employed soon. He was still young, healthy and in a great shape, he would easily find a place in construction site. Pietro couldn't wait for the day he would be able to help his parents, to bring money to this home. They weren't so poor, they still managed to get food in their plate everyday, but they weren't the most wealthy family of the street either. At least, they still had heat for the cold nights of winter, and Pietro couldn't be more thankf ul of this, as he moved a little under his covers, letting out a pleased sound._

_His night was suddenly shortened when his door flew open, banging against the wall. Pietro abruptly sat up, unsettled, when he saw his father entering the room at an angry, quick pace. His face was distorted by anger, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line. He gave Pietro a disgusted look, before speaking with a frightening, low voice._

_“Get out of my house, now.” he said in sokovian, in a composed voice, barely containing his hatred_

_Pietro stared at him for a few seconds, his eyes wide opens, befuddled, but immediately got up when he met his father's revolted eyes. He saw him clench his jaw in a rensentful way, enraged, and was about to ask him what was happening when the old man told him that he didn't want a son like that under his roof, spitting insults toward him that instantly made Pietro realize what was happening. He knew._

_The young man ran out of the room, avoiding his father's loathing glare, and entered the kitchen, looking for Wanda. He suddenly stopped at the doorstep when he saw her, sitting on a chair with a blanket around her shoulders with her knees drew back to her chest, sobbing into her arms. Her mother was sitting next to her, looking like she wanted to do something, with her knitted eyebrows and her empathetic glance toward Pietro. Wanda heard him taking a step toward her, and lifted her head, staring at him with a face drenched with tears, and wide apologetic eyes. She got up, repeating that she was sorry, that she didn't know their mother would tell him, stumbling over her words, but Pietro wasn't listening to her anymore. He was staring at their mother, speechless. They knew. They all knew. His worst nightmare was happening, and he needed her to get him out of this situation, to help him. He knew she was the only one who could do something. But she stared back at him, a sorrowful expression on her face, looking like she desesperately wanted to talk but her lips were sewed._

_Only one second after, his father was right behind him, pushing him towards the door, shouting that he wouldn't have a gay son. Pietro didn't do anything to stop him, frozen, until Wanda came right next to him, trying to take her father's hand away from his shoulders, imploring him to think about it. The man pushed her away, making her hit a wall, and Pietro suddenly turned around, grabbing his shoulders to push him away, making him fall. All the fear inside of him suddenly turned into anger, as he stared down at his father with a furious glare. He suddenly heard a whimper and looked up, his glance falling on his mother, who was staring at him with a remorseful look, a hand clasped over her mouth. He stared at her for a few seconds, his eyes filled with disappointment, before throwing the main door open, walking away from his house in the middle of the evening, without any clothes, food, or money._

_Wanda tried to call him but instead a choked sob came out. She ran toward the door, ready go after him, when she felt a hand on her shoulder keeping her from following him. Turning around, she met her mother's teary eyes, who shook her head, silently telling her not to follow his path._

_“If you step out that door, don't bother coming back.” her father grunted, giving her a disdainful look_

_Wanda clenched her fists, still staring at the door. She felt tears filling her eyes, but didn't blink, not wanting them to pour once again on her cheeks. Taking a deep, shaky breath, she walked out, closing the door behind her without hesitation. She didn't even look back at her parents. She didn't glance at her mother's face, at the heartbroken expression she was wearing, because she knew that if she met her eyes, she would never leave._

_She had to run to catch up on her brother, and he stopped walking when he finally noticed her. Pietro stared at her, not saying anything, his face blank devoid of any expression. She tried to explain to him what had happened, but couldn't hold back her sob. He took her into his arms, as she whimpered in his shoulder, repeating endlessly that she was sorry. He planted a kiss on her forehead, telling her that it was going to be alright, and rested his chin on the top of her head, letting her cry on his shoulder. They stayed like that for what seemed like hours, holding each other in the cold, trying not to think of the warmth of the family they had just lost._

 

Pietro suddenly woke up at the feeling of a hand against his forehead. He straightened up, opening his eyes, and came face to face with the brunet who kept him here. He had the back of his hand pressed against the young man's forehead, checking his temperature to see if he still had fever, but moved back a little when Pietro woke up, looking more distressed than ever. He was slightly panting, looking around him. Something was off, he felt warm. He had never felt this warm since he had left his house.

Pietro suddenly noticed something, and looked down. He was still sitting on the chair, but was now comfortably tucked under a warm blanket. He stared at the fabric for a few seconds, confused, and then looked back at Clint. Pietro didn't understand why the agent took care of him like that. He gave him food, water, bandaged his wrists, and now put a blanket over him while he was sleeping. No one had cared about him like that since Wanda. No one except his mother.

Clint who previously was kneeling down got up, about to get back to work. “... My name is Pietro.” the young man suddenly blurted out.

The archer shot him a surprised look, his eyebrows lifted. Pietro was already regretting his words, and how he had acted so compulsively just because the archer showed a little concern towards him, when a warm smile appeared on Clint's lips. 

“Nice to meet you, Pietro.” the brunet grinned. “Now, try to stay alive, would you?”


	3. Chapter 3

“So, you're undercover?”

Clint looked up from the file between his hands, glancing at his “captive” who was lazily leaning back on his chair, looking way too comfortable. The agent almost laughed at how casual Pietro seemed, when his eyes flickered to the rope on his legs. The agent noticed that they were getting a little loose, and hesitated for a second, but decided to leave them like that. The kid was already tied up and starving, he didn't want to leave marks on his skin. 

“Yeah, I'm an agent.” he simply shrugged, before going back to his file.

He secretly hoped this conversation would end there. Pietro wasn't annoying or anything, but he was a thief that Clint was supposed to hand over to the police. He wasn't a friend, and the agent had to keep that in mind. He knew that he was already worrying a lot over a complete stranger who broke into his apartment, and that wasn't normal. He didn't know why he was already so attached to the young man, something about him just made him want to protect him. Maybe it was the vulnerability that Pietro was trying so hard to hide. Plus, despite the constant glare the young man had wore this morning, Clint was a little, or a lot if he stopped lying to himself, attracted to Pietro. He couldn't ignore the fact that the young man was very attractive. He hadn't really noticed it at first, because the kid just looked exhausted and sick, but now that he had drank and slept a little, Clint could clearly see that he had some breathtaking blue eyes and pretty features. The problem was that he was still a criminal, and Clint refused to feel any attraction towards a man who stole from innocent people while using a knife.

“Who do you work for?”

Clint glanced at him once again, but kept his mouth shut before looking back at his file. Pietro rolled his eyes, bored out of his mind. He couldn't try to untie himself anymore because Clint was right across him, sitting on the couch. He had almost managed to take them off, feeling like he was halfway through the knot, when the brunet had came back into the apartment, looking a little upset over a conversation he just had over the phone, probably with a superior.

“C'mon, I thought we were buddies by now.” Pietro complained, almost whining.

“We're not anything, kid.”

“You're breaking my heart, agent Clint.” he pouted. “And I'm not a kid.”

Clint's eyes stopped going over the sentence he was reading, as his mind went blank at the way Pietro said his name. His accent made it sound slightly different and the way the words rolled of his tongue was almost mesmerizing. The brunet shook his head, regaining his composure as he told himself to get it together. “Well, compared to me, yes you are.” he retorted, trying to keep a normal tone.

“You're not that old.” Pietro said, rolling his eyes. He suddenly frowned, looking at Clint in a suspicious way. “Are you? You have zimmer frame, don't you? That's what you were hiding from me?”

“Yeah, sure, they sent an old man with a zimmer frame to a mission.” Clint scoffed.

He didn't even notice that his shoulders were getting less tensed, and his voice lighter as if he was talking with a good old friend like Natasha. Pietro was supposed to be a thief he was keeping there until he could hand him over, and yet, he was already starting to feel kinda attached to the kid. Natasha often told him he was too sympathic. She thought he had too much empathy, and often reminded him that he wasn't the father of the seven billion people living on earth.

“Why not, it can be useful, you can hit bad guys with it.” Pietro snorted.

That actually got a laugh out of Clint, who tried his best to remain focus on his work despite the kid's stupid ideas. “I'll keep that in mind.” he chuckled, putting an end to the conversation. When he was finally over reading this file he had been transmitted about new additions to their mission, Clint got up and walked over to the window for what felt like the hundredth time. Pietro watched him, impatiently waiting to finally be out of his sight, when Clint suddenly noticed something.

“It's already snowing?”

Pietro's eyes widened, and he suddenly couldn't breath anymore. Everything went silent, and the air got thicker. He felt like he was suffocating. It was already snowing, dawn was getting closer, and he was still tied to the chair.  
He was never gonna make it.

\----

Pietro was breathing heavily, almost panting. He kept looking back from Clint to the clock on the wall, feeling the rope on his legs getting more and more loose. He wasn't even being careful anymore, but luckily for him, Clint seemed really absorbed by what was being said in the building across the street. He looked once again out the window, or at least tried from where he was, an inexistant ticking of clock echoing in his head, almost driving him crazy. The sun wasn't going down yet, but he knew he only had one hour until dawn. One hour to go back to Wanda. Pietro knew she wouldn't go through another night, if she wasn't already dead.

He suddenly felt the rope falling loosely on his ankles, and stopped breathing for a second. The young man glanced at Clint, frozen. The agent moved a little, and Pietro rushed to get the rope back at its original place around his legs, but Clint stayed by the window. Slowly, the captive got rid of the ropes, carefully putting them on the floor, and got up. He headed toward the door, his heart beating so fast he was almost scared Clint would hear it, and quickly reached it, walking slowly but with long steps. He put his hand on the doorhandle, and let out of deep breath, finally relaxing, as he suddenly turned it, ready to rush off. But the doorhandle didn't move. The door was locked.

“... Fuck.” he muttered, hastily looking around him to see if there wasn't any key around.

Pietro took a step back, about to try to break down the door, when he was suddenly turned around. Clint grabbed his wrists, pinning him to the door. Pietro looked up at him, distress filling his eyes, and tried to shove him away, but his grip on his wrists was strong. He met Clint's eyes, and suddenly stopped fighting. There was no anger filling his eyes, he was staring at him with a calm Pietro wasn't used to. Usually, when he didn't obey, people would react pretty badly, it was normal for him. But, here, the agent didn't want to harm him, and had a certain kindness in his eyes that made Pietro's heart flutter. He knew he shouldn't be feeling this, certainly not for the man who was keeping him away from his sister, but at this moment he wasn't thinking about anything. 

He saw the agent looking down at his lips for a brief second, and the brunet quickly looked back up, meeting the young man's clouded eyes. Next thing he knew, Pietro's lips were on his own, the coldness of his skin meeting his warmth in an explosion. Clint's eyes widened, but he didn't pull back. The brunet could feel Pietro's heart pounding through his chest, and leaned even closer, pressing his chest against Pietro's. He answered to his kiss deeply, and the silver-haired man had to stifle a moan. Unconsciously, Clint let go of the young man's wrists, and Pietro's hands went against his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt as he pulled him even closer.

They finally parted after what seemed like an eternity, and just stared at each other for a few seconds, silent. Pietro was slightly panting, a little jealous over the fact that Clint looked totally fine, and took a step back, his back hitting the door once again. He didn't even have time to put his hand behind his back, aiming for the lock, when Clint grabbed his right wrists. 

“C'm'on kid, you can do better than that.” he smirked, lifting Pietro's hand holding the keys he had just stolen from the agent's pocket.

Maybe Clint would have let him go if he knew that all hell was going to break loose. Unlike earlier, Pietro didn't stay calm and composed. He fought back as soon as he understood that he wasn't leaving this place, trashing and fighting him while Clint was trying to tie him back to his chair. Without surprise, the agent managed to knock him out, and got him back at his place. Instead of working, he kept staring at the young man for at least five minutes, wondering what could have happened between one hour ago, where they were quietly talking, and now. He didn't understand what could have trigger him. It was like a beast inside him had been released. As soon as he understood that he wasn't leaving this apartment, Pietro punched him, and at some point in their fight, Clint met his eyes. They were filled with anger and determination, and were quick to make him understand that Pietro would be ready to kill him if he had to.

Pietro had now been unconscious for half an hour, and Clint was sitting on the couch with a phone in one hand, waiting for a phone call to inform him of what was going to happen next, while looking out the window. The sun was already going down, and the snow was now falling thick and heavy. The agent would have probably enjoyed the view if his mind wasn't focused on the young man knocked out only a few feet away from him.

“Otva li, mudak...” 

Clint suddenly looked away from the window, his surprised glance falling onto Pietro. The young man was rolling his head, probably suffering from his neck, and looked even more exhausted than earlier even though he had just slept. The agent was about to ask him what he had just said, but, given the glare Pietro was actually sending him, he guessed these were just insults. The silver-haired man started yanking on the ropes, moving so much Clint was almost scared he would dislocated his own shoulder. The agent just stared at him, an unreadable expression on his face, knowing that nothing he said would calm him, until Pietro started shouting insults at him, yelling at him to let him go.

Clint got up and tried to occupy himself, finding an unfilled paper, but Pietro just kept going on, never out of breath. After only two minutes, Clint snapped, feeling like he was going to drive him insane.

“Will you stay silent?!” he hushed, suddenly getting up and taking two steps towards Pietro, only stopping one feet away from him. “I'm undercover, we could get killed!”

“Just let me go, you asshole!” Pietro hissed, abruptly pulling on his ropes to lean towards the agent.

Clint ran a hand in his hair in frustration, and took a deep breath in a vain attempt to calm himself, before looking back at the young man. He asked him in a voice trembling with anger why, and what was happening. Pietro opened his mouth, still looking upset, when he suddenly stopped himself. He closed his mouth, all anger disappearing from his face and being replaced with doubt. Clint immediately understood that he wanted to tell him something, but didn't know if he could trust him. Which was more than understandable given that Clint was technically holding him hostage. Pietro turned his head, looking away from him, and the brunet knew that it was the moment. He had to take advantage of this moment of weakness.

Clint took another step toward Pietro, and crouched down in front of him to be at his height. He saw Pietro hesitantly look down at him, and gave him a calm, reassuring glance. “Tell me what's happening. Tell me why you need to get out right now.” he asked him in a low, soothing voice. A heavy silence settled between them for a few seconds, when Pietro mumbled something under his breath. Clint lifted his eyebrows, telling him that he didn't quite catch that.

“I have a sister.” the young man repeated in an annoyed voice, before resuming in a softer voice. “She's still out there.”

Clint's eyes widened, as realization washed over him. This was what he had been hiding from him all day, this was why he had broke into an empty apartment. He was looking for a place to sleep, not only for him but for his sister too. He had been trying to protect her. But Clint didn't understand why she wasn't with Pietro, or why the young man didn't tell him right at the beginning that he had a sister. The agent would have never handed him over to the police if he knew all that. Sadly, Clint quickly realized that everyone wasn't like him, and that Pietro must have been betrayed a lot of times before to lost all trust towards people.

“Why didn't she come with you?” Clint frowned, even more confused than before.

Pietro shook his head and looked down, regretful. “She was too weak. She could barely stand up. I told her I would be back as soon I found a place.” he answered, his voice filled with sorrow.

“Jesus, Pietro.” Clint fumbled, getting up on his feet immediately.

It had took him minutes to tie him up, but it took him only two seconds to get the ropes away from his wrists and legs. Pietro got up, but just stared at him, bewildered. Clint waited for him to react, to run out of this apartment without any other words, but the young man just kept staring at him, looking like he was having a hard time registering the situation. He wasn't expecting him to let him go.

The brunet rolled his eyes, and grabbed Pietro's shoulders, pushing him towards the door. “Go get her and bring her here.” he told him, unlocking the door. The young man walked out of the apartment, but stopped by the doorframe, glancing at Clint over his shoulder. He looked like he wanted to thank him, but shook his head, about to leave.

“Why didn't you tell me earlier?” Clint suddenly asked, stopping him.

There was a brief moment of silence, and the agent almost thought he would leave without answering, which would have been understandable since he didn't owe him anything, he was the one who had held him hostage after all. Pietro looked back at him, hesitating, as if he wasn't sure of why he didn't tell him either.

Clint should have known, as soon as he met Pietro's eyes. He should have understood what was coming, and yet, he didn't react. The young man looked down, and mumbled his answer, as if he didn't want him to hear it, before running off, disappearing into the dark corridor.

“You could have called the police.”

As soon as the young man disappeared, Clint understood. He didn't hesitate because he wasn't sure why he hadn't told him earlier, he had hesitated because he still wasn't sure Clint wouldn't call the police. He didn't trust him, and he would never do. Why would he bring his sister here, still not knowing if Clint would denounce them?  
He was never going to come back.

\----

“Your undercover mission is over. You're leaving with Natasha tomorrow to infiltrate the area before the arrival of the others, she'll tell you the details.”

Clint nodded, not even realizing that the agent at the other end of the line couldn't see him, and hung up. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, and looked out the window, frustrated. He had went outside looking for Pietro during almost an hour, but had had to came back for his mission. He had just had time to walk through the door before an agent called him, telling him that his mission was over. That meant that he came back for nothing, he could have looked for Pietro longer, not leaving him alone outside to die of hypothermia. Clint didn't expect his mission to end this soon, but he had already caught more informations than they thought he would, which meant that staying longer undercover would be useless. 

Clint took his jacket, and grabbed his keys, about to go out again, when the door suddenly flung open, almost hitting the wall. Clint reacted in less than a second, grabbing his gun safely packed in his bag, and turning around to aim at the intruder. This intruder didn't even flinch at the sight of the weapon aiming at him, and stared at Clint with wide teary eyes.

“Pietro?” Clint blurted, staring back at the young man without knowing how to react.

He was panting, looking like he had some trouble breathing evenly, and some tears kept dropping from his eyelashes without him noticing, slowly rolling down his flushed cheeks. His eyes were wides, filled with terror, and the same distress Clint had kept seeing into them all day. His legs were shaking, from exhaustion but also from the panic flowing through him. Pietro opened his mouth, but only managed to choke out a sob. Clint rushed to his side, helping him to sit down on a chair. He kneeled beside him, and took his hand, telling him to breath. Pietro swallowed the lump in his throat, and looked up, meeting Clint's eyes.

“... It's Wanda.”


	4. Chapter 4

_I'll come back as soon as I can._ He was standing in an alley, staring at a dirty blanket with a few holes in it laying on the cold wet floor. He was feeling short of breath, almost panting. His heart was racing and his chest felt too tight, hurting. _I'm not leaving you._ The words kept echoing in his head, his eyes watering as he kept staring helplessly at the empty place he had occupied for months. She was gone.

He couldn't breath anymore, he felt like he was suffocating. He turned around, looking around him. There was so many streets, so many places, he wouldn't find her, she was gone. His vision became blurry, and he felt like his legs were about to let him down at any moment. He was dizzy, and felt like he was about to pass out. She was gone.

“Pietro?” someone suddenly called him. “Pietro, look at me.”

Clint grabbed his shoulder, trying to get his attention, but Pietro's eyes were unfocused, he had completely lost touch with reality. He was having a panic attack. The brunet was glad he had made him sit as soon as he entered the room, because by now he would probably have passed out or fallen if he was still standing up. His whole body was shaking, and his legs were jittering violently.

“Pietro, you need to calm down and tell me what's happening.” Clint said in a calm soothing voice. “I can help you.”

Pietro suddenly stood up, and started pacing around the room. He was breathing erraticaly, and tears kept rolling down his cheeks. “She's gone.” he kept saying, not even looking at Clint, as if he hadn't even noticed him. Clint frowned, as realization washed over him. His sister had disappeared, he didn't find her where he was supposed to. He had told him earlier that she was too weak to even walk, Clint couldn't even imagine what had happened to her.

Pietro finally stopped pacing, his eyes still unfocused, staring at the wall, and tried to say something, but the words refused to leave his mouth. He closed his eyes, trying to calm down, and breath deeply. He took a long shuddering breath and released it in a choked sob, he tried breathing regulary but his chest was too tight and his heart beating too fast. He had tried not to panic, to stay calm, but all he could think about was his sister and how she was probably dying and he couldn't even think straight anymore.

“Sit down, kid.” 

He felt hands on his shoulders, gently pushing him down to make him sit, and Pietro didn't fight it, resting his back against the wall. Clint sat down next to him, still with a hand on his shoulder. The young man saw his lips moving but he couldn't even hear him anymore, the same voice in his head repeating over and over that she was gone. She may even be dead by now. His eyes looked away from Clint, and he was suddenly seeing the empty dark alley again, with the abandonned blanket on the floor that had kept them warm for weeks. He remembered sharing it with Wanda, both curled up on the wet ground of the alley during night, watching the street with wary eyes as his sister slowly drifted into sleep. He choked back a sob, and suddenly felt two arms wrapping around him, pulling him into a warm embrace.

“We'll find her, alright?” 

Clint wasn't really fond of hugs, but seeing Pietro like that broke his heart. He hadn't known this kid for even a day and yet he couldn't watch him cry without doing anything about it. He just seemed really vulnerable, unlike how he had been all day, keeping a mask on and trying to look stronger than he realy was. Pietro buried his head into Clint's shoulder, wetting the tissue of his shirt. Clint looked down at him, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth when he saw that the young man's respiration was starting to slow down.

He didn't know anything about him, but he already knew he would never let him down.

\----

The sun had settled for hours, and no one could be seen in the silent street when they finally got out of the hotel, shuddering at the low temperature. Clint took a glance at his right and, seeing that a car was parked in front of the building he had been watching, he hurried Pietro down the road. They quickly reached the center of the city, where Pietro and Wanda had been staying, and slowed down a little, looking around them. Pietro was shaking, rubbing his hands covered by the sleeves of a jacket that wasn't his. Clint had given it to him before they went out. Well, he had actually thrown it in his direction and had given him a warning look when Pietro was about to protest. He was more of a “tough love” man.

They had now been walking for two hours in silence, only disturbed by Pietro's heavy breathing, who was still a little shaken up. Clint had spent almost twenty minutes rassuring him, but he couldn't stop him from being anxious. The brunet glanced at Pietro from the corner of his eyes, and saw that he looked even paler than before. He frowned, thinking that the young man hadn't shown any sign of dehydration since when he last drank, when he suddenly heard a loud rumble from Pietro's stomach. He had to stop himself from doing a facepalm. How could he have been so careless?? The young man had showed sign of starvation and dehydration when he had first saw him, and yet he had forgotten to give him food before walking out of the apartment.

“You should go home and rest, I'll keep looking for her.” he told Pietro, stopping dead in his tracks.

Pietro gave him a strange look over his shoulder as he kept walking, retorting that he was fine in a husky voice, his throat still dry even though he had drank a few hours ago. “No, you're not fine, you're starving, and I won't be able to look for Wanda if you pass out in the middle of the street.” Clint scowled, crossing his arms. He was getting sick of this kid's stubborness, if his sister was really dying, Clint didn't have time to argue with him. He understood that Pietro put his sister's life before his, but that was not a reason to put himself in danger when he could rely on someone else.

Sighing, the brunet watched Pietro getting further and further away from him, before finally giving up. “One hour.” he accepted grudgingly, as he resumed walking. “One hour, and you go back. And I swear to god, if you faint I leave you here, laying face down in the snow, all alone. People wouldn't suspect me. Nobody would know.” he kept ranting, ignored by Pietro who just walked ahead, focused on finding Wanda. Pietro turned the corner of the street, and suddenly froze. Clint frowned, wondering if he had finally found his twin, and jogged to catch up with him. The young man had his eyes widened, staring at a man who looked like he was still in his pyjamas, with slippers on his feet. Pietro quickly recovered from his shock, as his expression creased into a frown, anger pumping through his veins. 

“I thought I heard you.” the man said in a low, calm voice.

Clint went to stand by Pietro's side, unsure of who the man was and if he was a threat or not. Judging by Pietro's reaction, he wasn't a man to be friendly with. If Clint hadn't been with Pietro, he would have thought he was rather a nice man. The old man, probably in his fifties, didn't look evil at all, with his grey hair, hollow cheeks, tiny nose, and slopping eyes that made him look approachable and kind. But, the man took a step forward, stepping out of the shadow that his house was providing him, and Clint could suddenly see the disgust in his eyes. He was looking at Pietro with aversion, and when his eyes fell onto Clint, his loathing only seemed to grow.

 _“You brought your boyfriend?”_ he snorted, eying Clint with distaste.

Clint didn't know why he had been expecting english, really. That was stupid of him, and after forgetting to give Pietro some food, he was really starting to wonder if he was slowly losing hundredth of brain cells. But, despite the langage barrier, the man's tone left no room for doubt. He knew Pietro, and he despised him.

“I'm happy to see you again too, Ivan.” Clint gave Pietro a strange look, wondering why he was answering in english, before realizing that he wanted him to know what was going on. “How's mom?” he spat, a dry smile on his lips.

The man, apparently named Ivan, clenched his fist, scowling as he told him in sokovian that he was not supposed to call him by his first name, and that, being his son, he owed him some respect. Clint, still not understanding a single word, just stared at him in disbelief. This man was Pietro's father? For some reason, the brunet had assumed that his parents were dead or that they had just disappeared. He hadn't really thought about it, just kind of ignoring their existence. The fact that they could have been kicked out didn't even pop in his mind. 

“I don't owe you anything.” Pietro growled, glaring at him.

“Why are you talking in english?” Ivan suddenly asked, talking with a thick marked accent, almost making his words unintelligible.

Pietro jerked his chin towards Clint, his eyes still glued on the man standing in front of them. “He don't talk english.”

“Liking men wasn't enough, you had to pick an american.” 

“I'll take what I can get.” Pietro shrugged, a smug smile on his lips. “I'm sorry, father, am I disappointing you again?”

Ivan clenched his jaw, fuming, and suddenly walked towards Pietro at a fast, angry pace. Clint reacted immediately, and took a step in front of Pietro. He got into a fighting position, when the young man suddenly walked past him, his fist violently hitting his father's jaw. Ivan fumbled backwards, startled. He turned his head away from them, massaging his jaw, and Clint thought it was already over, relaxing a little, when Ivan got back at him without any warning, throwing a punch at Pietro. It was an unexpected move, and neither Clint nor Pietro had time to react. The impact sent the silver-haired man crashing into the wall of one of the houses on their left, his head violently hitting the hard surface. The last thing he saw was Clint's knuckles colliding with Ivan's jaw, before he completely lost consciousness.

\----

His head was pounding and his throat dry when Pietro woke up, looking around him in confusion. He blinked a few times to clear his vision, and recognized Clint's apartment. He slowly sat up, and rubbed his neck, when he suddenly remembered what had happened. They were supposed to be looking for Wanda. He suddenly got up, but his headache got worse, forcing him to sit down again. Clint entered the room, carrying an ice pack and a sandwich. He put the food on the couch next to Pietro, and gave him the ice pack, looking at him with concern. The silver-haired man thanked him with a nod, and placed the ice pack on his forehead, when he felt a tissue covering his skin, probably a bandage. He didn't think his injury would be that bad. “How's your head?” Clint asked, eying the bandage cautiously.

“It hurts.” Pietro growled, feeling the humidity of the blood soaked bandage under his hand.

He was about to try to get up once again when Clint stopped him, telling him he should eat and rest a little before moving. Pietro shook his head. “I need to find her.” he insisted. 

“You won't even be able to get to the stairs before passing out.” 

The young man had a smug smile on his lips, and his eyebrows lifted, clearly meaning “watch me”, before he got up, taking a step forward. Clint crossed his arms, watching him with a stern look. He didn't want Pietro to hurt himself but he couldn't wait for that idiot to fall. The silver-haired man was about to walk past him, when he started feeling dizzy. His knees suddenly felt weak, and before Pietro could react, his legs couldn't carry him anymore.

Clint didn't plan on helping him, enjoying his failure more than he was supposed to, but he suddenly saw that Pietro's head was going to hit the floor, and knew that this time it could end up with a concussion. He swiftly caught him, and pulled him back to his feet easily. They were suddenly too close, Pietro's face only inches away from Clint's, his icy blue eyes staring intensely at him. Uncomfortable, the brunet took a step back, looking away, and helped Pietro back to the couch.

“You're an idiot.” he scoffed, grabbing the sandwich to throw it into Pietro's lap. “Eat.”

Clint went to grab his phone, sitting at the table, and went through his messages while Pietro just ate in silence. He hadn't checked it since he had gotten here, and his inbox was now more than full with Steve keeping him informed, Tony sending him stupid and useless things, his lawyer constantly asking him when they could meet up and Laura wanting to know when she could come get her stuff. He sighed, and quickly answered to Steve and his lawyer before turning his phone off, putting it aside. He glanced at Pietro and noticed that he was eating surprisingly slowly. After not having ate properly for weeks, Clint thought he would have finished it in one bite, but he almost seemed repulsed by the simple idea of eating. He looked preoccupied, riddled with guilt. Clint frowned, still staring at him, when he suddenly realized something. His eyes softened, and he looked away, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. He was eating, and not his sister. He almost consumed with self-hatred because of all the comfort he was being provided, while Wanda was nowhere to be found, probably alone and lost in the city, dying of hypothermia. Clint cleared his throat, and looked out the window, trying to think about something else.

“You don't watch the building across the street anymore?” Pietro suddenly asked, throwing the paper of the sandwich into the trash in a perfect shot.

Clint glanced at him, and shook his head, answering that he had a new mission, still there in Sokovia. He could see Pietro wince from the corner of his eyes and rest his head carefully on the back of the couch. It was right behind him, on the left of the window while the table was only a few feet away, on the right of the window. The agent was sitting sideway, so he could look out the window and have a proper conversation with Pietro without him talking to his back. But, the young man said nothing after this, a comfortable silence settling between them. It lasted for about five minutes, and the agent assumed Pietro had fallen asleep, considering he had his eyes closed, when Clint suddenly heard his voice.

“You're not saying anything?” he asked in a quiet, tired voice.

“About what?”

“About me being...” He made a pause, almost as if the words couldn't leave his mouth. “About me being gay.” He looked ashamed, but opened his eyes, looking directly at Clint, confronting him. “You're not disgusted? You don't want me out?”

“Why would I want that?” Clint asked, lifting his eyebrows as he turned around, his legs straddling the chair to face Pietro.

“Because people usually do.” the silver-haired man shrugged.

For some reason, it bothered Clint that the young man could think such thing of him. He knew they had only known each others for a day and that they had only started trusting each others a few hours ago, but he thought Pietro would know he wasn't this kind of person. He sighed, resting his arms on the back of the sit.

“Listen, I could not care less about who you like.” he assured, before resuming. “I mean, I'm bi, how could I even judge?”

The young man stared at him, taken aback, before looking away out the window, but Clint could see a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He wasn't used to people saying it this easily, hell he even thought he was the only one at some point. Knowing that he wasn't alone brought a warm feeling to his chest.

“But, really? I'll take what I can get?” Clint mocked, quoting Pietro's words from his conversation with his father. “C'mon, you and I both know I'm a solid ten.” he smirked, showing confidence he definitely didn't have.

Pietro's frown loosened, and he suddenly bursted out of laughter. It was a loud booming laugh, filled with so much warmth it made Clint smile genuinely. He had never heard his laugh before, and now that he had seen him so cheerful, he almost couldn't remember the distressed Pietro from earlier, as if he had never existed.

Still with a faint smile on his lips, the young man got up from the couch carefully, moving slowly so he wouldn't start feeling dizzy again, and stopped by Clint's chair, as if he was waiting for his approbation. “Can we go now?” he asked, his voice steady and clear. “I rested and I ate, _mom_.” 

“Let me at least check your injury first.” Clint answered, still a little hesitant.

He had to admit that the silver-haired man already looked better. His face had regained some colors, and he didn't look like he was about to faint at any moment anymore. Pietro rolled his eyes, and kept walking towards the door, when he suddenly started to slow down, putting his hand on the wall for support. Clint immediately got up and was at his side in a blink, a hand against his lower back, his eyebrows knitted in concern. Pietro closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, but when he opened them again his vision was still blurry, clouded with black dots. The room started to spin and he crouched down, a hand on his forehead as he closed his eyes again, his face scrunched in discomfort.

“Why am I so weak?” he mumbled, resting his back against the wall as he completely sat on the ground.

Clint sat beside him, their shoulders brushing slightly, and sighed. “You were in a serious case of starvation not even ten minutes ago, and you have a head injury, you need to rest, kid, it's simple.” he explained, giving Pietro an apologetic look. He understood why Pietro wanted to go outside, he felt helpless, and the brunet wished he could help him get back on his feet but there was nothing he could do. He wasn't a doctor, he only knew the basics, he only knew the symptoms to a few things like concussions and broken ribs, because it was a part of his job, but he had no idea of how to heal injuries. All he could tell him was that he needed to rest. He wished he could do more. Clint ran a hand through his hair, and turned his head towards Pietro, who had drawn his knees to his chest.

“Look, I'll go outside and search Wanda until I have to go for my next mission, alright? Stay there, and try to sleep.” 

Pietro opened his mouth, and seemed to hesitate, before closing it again, frowning. He wanted to trust Clint but something inside of him told him not to. Lately, he had learned to trust no one, to only think about his sister and her safety, but he knew that now, if he wanted to save her, he would have to rely on someone else, someone he barely knew.

“You can trust me.” Clint promised.

Pietro looked back at him, meeting his glance, and stared at him for a second, a hint of hope sparkling in his eyes, before nodding slowly. “Ok.” he breathed, looking at the hem of his sleeves while he played with them absent-mindely. Clint smiled speechlessly, and slowly took his hand in his, squeezing it lightly in support before getting up. He went to grab bandage out of his bag, wanting at least to check on his injury and to change the tissue before getting out. He came back after only a second, and started changing his bandage cautiously, a comfortable silence settling between them.

“I should be the one outside.” Pietro muttered when the archer was almost done, looking down at the sweatshirt with a disapproving glare, hating the warmth it was providing him.

Clint gave him a confused look, waiting for him to resume. It was probably the first time Pietro was talking to him like that, so vulnerably. Usually he would stay silent, or get upset, but this time he actually wanted to confess to the brunet. He was seeking for comfort.

“I once told her I would become a real popsicle before I would let her catch a cold.” he explained, letting out a bitter laugh. “And now, I'm here in a warm apartment, with a sweater and food, and she's outside dying all alone because I've let her down again.”

“Again?” Clint frowned, cutting the bandage after having managed to cover the injury completely.

“She followed me when I got kicked out last year.” Pietro admitted, ashamed. “She came with me and I didn't say anything. I knew my life was over as soon as I stepped out that door, I knew things would be hard, and I let her come with me. I ruined her entire life just because I was too scared of being alone.”

“Maybe someone found her and helped her?”

Clint knew this was surreal, but at this moment he would say anything to reassure him, to make that look of self-hatred disappear from his eyes. He would have wanted to say that it was normal, that no one would have pushed her away when she was offering him to come with him, that it didn't mean he was a monster, but he knew Pietro wouldn't have listened to him, he knew he would have hated it. He didn't need someone to tell him he wasn't a bad person, he needed to know his sister was alright. Putting him before her would have upsetted the young man even more.

“People don't care about homeless people here. I would like to say it's because they're mean, but no, they're not bad people. They're just as poor as everyone, they have their own problems.”

The silver-haired man looked up at the agent, his eyes glowing with tears, and Clint had no idea what he was supposed to do. Pietro was probably expecting him to walk out, given he had just finished bandaging him, but the agent couldn't bring himself to leave him like that. When he saw him like that, filled with self-hatred and sorrow, he found himself incapable of getting up and leaving. So, Clint did the only thing that he wanted to do at that moment. He leaned down, wrapping his muscular arms around Pietro's shaking frame in a warm embrace, and felt the young man hesitate for a second before leaning into it, burying his face in the archer's shoulder. 

After a few seconds only, Clint moved back, and was about to get up, when Pietro suddenly leaned in, his lips meeting the brunet's. The agent tensed as he felt lips crash down onto his, and he wanted to back away, he really did, but his instinct took over, making him respond to the kiss, snaking an arm around his waist to pull him even closer, deepening the kiss. A quiet moan escaped Pietro's lips, and he gripped his shirt, pulling him towards him, when Clint suddenly snapped out of it. He couldn't do this. The kid was desesperate, completely lost, he couldn't take advantage of it. He suddenly backed away, leaving Pietro flustered and bewildered, slightly panting. He met the agent's eyes, and saw the remorse in it. He frowned and looked away, mumbling that he shouldn't have done that.

“Wait, no, it's not like that.” Clint clarified hastily. “I like you, I really do, but... You're going through some tough stuff and you want something to stop thinking about it, and I don't want to be the man in the right place at the right stime, alright?”

Pietro nodded, giving him an understanding look. Clint told him that he should probably go now, and planted a quick kiss on the top of his head before walking out. He crossed the corridor and stopped two doors away from his apartment, knocking four times in a specific rhythm, a code instaured between agents during a mission. He wanted to ask his friend if she could just check on Pietro from times to times, still afraid that his injury was worse than he thought.

The door opened after only a few seconds, revealing a woman with red hair, looking her usual perfectly put together self despite the late hour. She was on a mission and didn't sleep a lot but she still looked flawless. “Nat, I need a favor.” Clint said, without greeting her. They had been texting each other only a few hours ago, and they were far enough in their friendship to not bother with civilities anymore.

“Alright, but I probably have to tell you something before you say anything.” Natasha answered, backing away from the door to let him get in.

“Can't be worse than me.” the archer grumbled as he walked past her.

Her apartment was identical to his, a crappy room with a couch, a kitchen and a bed in only once space, and Clint only made two steps into the room before freezing, staring at the figure sitting on the sofa, curled up in a ball.

“I found her sleeping in a dark alley when I came back here, she looked really bad I couldn't leave her there.” Natasha explained from behind him, sounding a little guilty despite her usual confident behavior. “Clint?”

The brunet opened his mouth, but his mind was blank and he didn't find anything to say. He just kept staring at the woman sitting on the couch, hidden under a blanket. She had brown hair, wide doe eyes and hollow cheeks, she didn't look anything like Pietro, and yet, he knew.

She looked scared and confused, her eyes going from Clint to Natasha, and the redhead went to sit next to her, putting a hand on her shoulder, and explained to her who he was in a soft voice. She looked back at him, but he was already gone. He rushed out of the room, and crossed the corridor in less than a second, throwing the door open. Pietro had his head tilted back against the wall with his eyes closed, still suffering from his headache, but suddenly got up when Clint rushed in, wincing at the pain it provoked him. He gave the brunet a confused look, and the brunet only needed to say two words. “Your sister.” he breathed out, his heart pounding like wildfire.

Clint grabbed his arm and led him outside, stopping by the doorframe. Natasha was in the middle of the corridor, apparentely heading to his room. She wasn't supposed to be seen with him outside of her room, but she was intrigued by his behavior, and the hotel was empty anyway. He suddenly noticed Wanda's small frame slightly hiding behind the redhead, and was about to say something when her wide green eyes fell onto Pietro. 

“Brother!” she cried, rushing over to him. 

The silver-haired man looked frozen, his eyes widened in shock, but managed to catch her as she litteraly slammed into him. He almost lost balance, but stayed upright, holding onto her for dear life. She was sobbing into his shoulder, and she looked so weak at that moment that if Pietro's arms weren't hugging her tight she would probably be on the ground. Natasha didn't look confused, and Clint assumed that Wanda had already explained the situation to her. The two seemed pretty close, or at least closer than the redhead was with most people. She took a few steps to be next to Clint, and briefly glanced at his from the corner of her eyes.

“What do we do now?” she asked him, still looking at the twins with a hint of tenderness in her eyes.

Clint glanced at Natasha, before his eyes went back to the twins. Pietro had let his arms fall to his sides, but Wanda didn't seem to want to let him go. The young man chuckled, planting a kiss on top of her head, but as he leaned down, tears he had tried not to shred rolled down his cheeks. He looked up, his chin resting on Wanda's head, and met Clint's eyes, offering him a warm, genuine smile.

The brunet didn't know what they were going to do, he didn't even know if he wanted to do something. All that mattered was that Pietro had found his sister, and that he was here, safe, and smiling. For the moment, that was all he needed to know.

After a few minutes, Wanda finally took a step back, sniffing and wiping the tears away from her cheeks with the sleeves of her borrowed black sweater, and punched her brother's shoulder with enough strenght to make him yelp, asking her why she was hitting him. “You're an idiot.” she smiled, incapable of being mad at him, especially now. “Don't ever do that again.” she scowled with a light accent. Clint had just noticed that had exactly the same musical charming accent, different than the others sokovian who had a rougher one.

The brunette turned towards Clint and Natasha, giving him a little nod to aknowledge him, and walked towards the redhead, thanking her hesitantly, as if she was keeping herself from doing something. “I won't bite you, you know.” Natasha said, a soft smile appearing on her lips. Wanda chuckled, and hugged her, thanking her once again for helping her. Clint was watching them with his eyebrows knitted in astonishment, surprised by how affectionate Natasha was being. Pietro suddenly interrupted him in his thoughts. “You're not that.” 

“What?” the brunet asked, confused. He turned his head to look at the young man, and was a little taken aback by how intensely he was looking at him. He was staring deep into his eyes, the blue of his irises electrizing him, and Clint found himself incapable of looking away.

“The man in the right place at the right time.” Pietro added. “You're not that.”

Clint's eyes unconsciously flickered to Pietro's lips, but didn't even have time to answer before the young man kissed him. The archer smiled against his lips, and snaked an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. 

When he said he wanted a quiet mission to recover from the events in New York, Clint wasn't expecting that, but the young man climbing into his crappy apartment early in the morning was probably the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Sokovia could be a surprising place.


End file.
